The Lost Boy
by curbsidepuke
Summary: None of that meant anything to him anymore. Not even hockey. What once had given him nothing but pleasure now caused his heart to ache. And nothing could make it stop. A Guy Germaine story.
1. Invisible Man

I started this thing in 2005 during my freshmen year of college, ignored it for nine months, and picked it up again in 2006. I left it open ended for four years, and upon my return to the Mighty Ducks fandom I decided it was time for major edits. This is my story.

**Summary: **Guy no longer plays for the ducks. He is no longer with Connie. Guy done my way; alternate universe.

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter One: Invisible Man**

_Click._ The sound of his key catching in the lock could barely be heard. As he slowly pushed open the door, he caught the last few bars of a cereal jingle blaring from the aging television set. Children were screaming all around him. The stereo was playing at an indecent volume. His parents were arguing. His youngest nephew was crying.

Guy Germaine felt as though a pillow had been pressed over his face. He couldn't breathe in his own home. There were just too many people.

The worn out rubber of the soles of his sneakers squeaked as they thudded across the dirty floor. A year ago, that alone would have signaled his arrival. But now it took more than slight noises to make his presence known.

Guy crossed to the kitchen and escaped out the back door. No one noticed him. He was invisible.

The air was crisp and clean. Steam rose from his mouth with each breath. He breathed deeply. He smelled snow. Minnesota would have its first December snow that night. Perfect skating conditions were no longer amorphous; the pond would remain frozen from now until spring.

A small smile tugged at his lips. He had always loved this time of year. All of his best memories had happened when it snowed. His best birthday. His first kiss. The first time he ever touched the ice.

But none of that meant anything to him anymore. Not even hockey. What once had given him nothing but pleasure now caused his heart to ache. And nothing - and no one - could make it stop.


	2. My Own Corner of the World

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 2: My Own Corner of the World**

Guy walked slowly down the stairs of the multi-level deck in his backyard. His parents were wealthy. No. His grandparents were wealthy. He would not deny them that. After all, they were the ones who now paid for him to attend Eden Hall. Since he now _sans scholarship._ But he never flaunted their wealth, and most people would never guess.

The house he grew up in was huge. It belonged to his mother's parents; it had been their vacation home before he was born. A small cabin nestled against a backdrop of mountains and a frozen pond. It really was a beautiful site. _From the outside._

_Inside, _it was slightly more chaotic. The once perfectly polished hard wood floors were now caked with dirt and dust. His mother had simply not taken care of the place. It was hard, he knew, to keep up. There was too much going on in their home. Family pictures made an attempt at covering the holes punched in the walls. Nothing was in the same place twice. None of the appliances were updated. His home looked as though a hurricane had gone through, but that was its general state. He was used to it.

Guy continued down the stairs until he came to his favorite spot on the grounds. The dock stretched out a few yards over the water. He sat down and let his legs dangle over the edge. From above, nothing could be seen but darkness. He was hidden. Invisible. But from Guy's corner of the world, he could see clear across the water.

It was cold down by the water. He continually rubbed his hands together to keep warm. But he didn't mind. He was away from everything – and everyone.

It was now close to midnight, and Guy still refused to go inside. Inside was where his mother was. And his father. No. Not _his _father. John may have been daddy to the many young children that dismantled the house on a daily basis, but he was not Guy Germaine's father. He had been born a bastard and he was alright with admitting that. He wasn't alright, however, with talking - or even thinking about his real father. Still, try as he might to suppress them, his thoughts often drifted across the Atlantic to the small island where the man resided.

Alan Daniel Windsor. He had been partners with Guy's maternal grandfather in the insurance business a number of years ago, before his mother became pregnant. It wasn't an affair, and it wasn't a one night stand. It was an accident, plain and simple. Both his parents had been too drunk to remember any of the details clearly, but Samantha was adamant that Alan was the father. Nothing could change her mind.

And nothing would have to. A paternity test was done immediately following Guy's birth. Fearing his partner's wrath more than anything else, Alan fled the country to return to his native land. Picking up bits of information over the years, Guy had learned that his father had married, and his trophy wife had bore him a second son. Christened with his father's middle name, Daniel Jacob Windsor was something of junior hockey legend in England. Apparently, he to had inherited his father's talent.

Guy stood up and stretched, glancing lazily at his watch. It was two o' clock in the morning. He had been sitting on the dock for several hours now, lost in though. With a habit born of much practice, he pushed all thoughts of his father from his mind as he made his way up the stone steps and into the house.


	3. Smoke and Mirrors

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 3: Smoke and Mirrors**

**beep beep Beep Beep Beep BEEEEEP**

The alarm grew progressively louder as Guy lay in bed, willing himself to fall back to sleep.

**BEEEEEEEP**

"Oh, come on," he whispered. He slammed his fist over the OFF button and let himself fall out of bed. "I get orders even from you."

Guy picked himself up off the floor and pulled on a t-shirt. Vaguely registering that it smelled, he stumbled into the bathroom completely unaware of his younger half siblings playing tug of war with one of his old duck jerseys.

The mirror was fogged when he entered the bathroom. He was the last person to use it this morning, again. Any thoughts he had been entertaining of a hot shower quickly left his mind. He leaned close to the mirror as he brushed his teeth, letting the cold-as-ice feeling press against his forehead. It felt good. He rinsed, and reached up for a brush, avoiding the face staring back at him. Guy never looked at himself if he could help it. He didn't like his reflection. It reminded him of someone he didn't want to think about.

Today, something snapped. His eyes locked on the ones staring back at him. They were green. Green flecked with gold. His father's eyes. _Smash._ Shards of glass went flying in all directions.

Blood streamed down his hand. It swelled, and turned purple. And he didn't even flinch. He felt no pain. He felt relieved. As though all the hurt and distrust and pent-up emotions he had been experiencing left his body with the blood. Blood vessels were popping out of his skin, which had become transparent. Without thinking, he thrust his hand under the still running faucet, and let the water mix with his blood.

"Get your lazy ass the hell out already!"

The gruff screech brought Guy back to reality. Shit, he thought. It was his uncle. The one who refused to accept the fact that Guy was a relative. He quickly wrapped his hand in gauze and left the bathroom.

Once safely locked inside his bedroom and away from the cold stare of Stanley's eyes, Guy un-wrapped his hand and examined it. It was still swollen and purple, but no longer see-through. The cuts were crusting over and tender to the touch. He re-dressed it, and then dressed himself. He could already tell that it was going to be a long day.


	4. Louder than Words

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 4: Louder Than Words**

Guy sat on the dock with his knees pulled up to his chest. It wasn't exactly a fetal position, but it was close enough. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

He was staring at his left arm, which was covered with small cuts. Most were scabbed over, but a few had turned a nasty shade of green and continued to ooze. They were infected. He didn't need to be a doctor to figure that out. Pulling down his sweatshirt sleeve, he looked out across the water, at the family playing together on the other side. Granted, it was too far away to see perfectly, but Guy was still able to tell that they were having fun. His family used to be like that. They used to have fun together. He closed his eyes, remembering…

_"Watch me daddy, watch me,' squealed a six year old Guy as he raved across the frozen lake after the hockey puck. "Are you watching?"_

_"Of course I am," laughed John, raising the video camera to his face, "You've got your first game tomorrow, kid, and I want to make sure this thing works."_

_"Daddy, watch this." Guy glided over to the goal posts, took aim, and slammed the puck right into the net. "I did it, daddy, daddy, I did it!"_

_The boy had talent, there was no use in denying that fact. Just like Alan. God, he could be great. But Samantha doesn't want him to know his real dad played hockey. Jeez. Real dad. Why am I so stuck on that? He forced a smile, "That's right, kiddo, you did it."_

An oddly wet feeling on his arm brought Guy back. He had been absentmindedly picking the scabs on his arm and they were bleeding again. His sweatshirt was staining red. Red. Eden Hall colors. New duck colors. Where had that come from? He wasn't a duck anymore. He had quit playing last year, after the accident. After… after everything was different.

Making his way to the bathroom for fresh wrappings, Guy reflected on the day's events. Nothing happened much anymore, at least not to him, but today had been different. Today had been _insane._

A note had been left for him in homeroom that morning. From Coach Orion. Guy almost laughed out loud. A note for him? From _Coach Orion?_ He hadn't been to see his former coach in months, not since he left the team. What would he want with him?

"The Junior Division Gold Medal League. You're good, Germaine. You always were. Dean Buckley's willing to give you another chance. So am I. The question is, are you?" Orion had that way of speaking to you terms of black and white. There was no in-between.

"The gold medal league," Guy echoed. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. The gold medal league only accepted exceptional hockey players. They were the elite, no one was better. What on earth would they want with him?

"What would they want with me?"

Orion held a business card out to Guy. On it was an address and telephone number. He took it. "I've already given them your name. Tryouts are on Saturday morning. You don't have to go if you don't want to. But they have your name down in case you do show up."

Guy reached into the medicine cabinet and took out a pair of baby scissors. The kind his other used to cut his bangs with when he was little. Back when..

A thin line of blood now traced the underside of his wrist. It tingled a little bit, and at the same time it was numbing. He pressed a dingy washcloth to the cut, and then to some older ones.


	5. Night Thoughts

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter Five: Night Thoughts**

**Samantha's POV as she makes her way down to the dock.**

He's been so quiet lately. And moody. He snaps at everyone, even his little brothers. He just hasn't been right since the accident, since he found out about Alan. No, stop that. He's always known about his father, the hockey… Dan. Well, no, that's not entirely true. You never wanted Guy to know Alan played when he was younger. Always afraid that would turn the boy off the sport. And look, it has. But he had been okay with it; at least he seemed to be. He never said anything about it. Never even brought it up after the car crash. How did things get so messed up?

**John's POV as he comes up from the dock.**

Great, you've really fucked it up now. If Guy didn't hate you before, he's really going to now. Why'd you have to go and try to rehash everything? Hockey? Connie? Those topics have been off-limits for months now. He doesn't even look me in the eye anymore. Or anyone, for that matter. He doesn't want to talk to you, plain and simple. What happened that night will never be forgiven, never.

… And I deserve never to be forgiven.

**Guy's POV as he sits on the dock.**

I've spent the past twelve months being ignored by everyone in my family, everything I've done has gone completely unnoticed. Why does it suddenly matter that I'm not a duck anymore, that I'm not involved in school? It's not like I'm on scholarship like everyone else. Things that were important but.. they just aren't anymore. Why can't they understand that? As for hockey… I don't know. Should I try out for the league? Should I not? Does it really matter? It's just a game, after all. No. It's not just a game. Not to me. It never was. Hockey was always something that connected me to him. A common bond. But_ he_ plays, too. I can't compete with _him_.


	6. The Dream

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 6: The Dream**

_A victory party, celebrating JV's triumphant win over the varsity. Pulsating music, flashing lights, lots of alcohol. Ducks and parents alike are in attendance. Takes place at Adam Banks' home._

Guy stumbles drunkenly into the basement of his best friends' home. His fellow ducks are there, all equally drunk, laughing and having a good time. His coordination isn't great; as he goes to turn into another room he smashes into the door. He hears light laughter behind him. He turns around. His girlfriend of almost four years is standing there, giggles erupting from behind the hands that are covering her mouth. He smiles, and loses almost all traces of his previous mindset. Gently putting his hands on her hips, just below her waist, he pulls her close and whispers in her ear.

"What are you laughing at, huh?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, silly boy."

Guy smiled even wider, "Thanks to you, I'm no longer a little boy."

"Sshh! My parents…" Connie's voice trailed off as she turned her head to search the room for her mom and dad. "…Are not down here."

"No, they're not."

"The team is."

"Huh. So they are. Hadn't noticed."

"How could you not notice your own teammates all around you?"

"I'm with you. There's nothing else to notice."

A faint blush tinged Connie's cheeks. She really did love him. Always had. _And I always will, _she thought, as Guy led the way upstairs.

_Several hours later. Guy and John are driving home in a black Jeep Cherokee. It's snowing. Black ice covers the road.  
_

"Are you proud of yourself?"

Guy turned from the window. A mixture of disappointment and curiosity came over his face. "What?"

"You were caught with your girlfriend in your best friend's house and his parents walked in on you!"

"Yeah," he whispered. He didn't want to talk right now. All he could think about was what Connie had said to him while they waited for their parents to stop apologizing to Mr. and Mrs. Banks. _"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. It's like they said, we are just kids. Maybe we should take some time apart." _Guy hadn't been able to think straight since that moment.

"You're sorry! What the hell were you thinking?" His stepfather's voice brought him back to the present.

"What does it matter? We apologized, to both Adam and his parents. What more do you want me to say?," Guy felt his temper rising as each word spewed from his mouth.

"Don't you understand? If you keep this up you're going to end up exactly like your mother."

"What?"

"She got pregnant at fifteen. Come on, Guy, you know that. Do you want to end up like that?"

"I thought you loved my mother."

"I do love your mother, but I wish she hadn't been put into the situation she was in. I wish she hadn't gotten pregnant by that jackass. He screwed her, and then screwed her over. And she got landed with a baby and no one to help care for it.

"You wish she'd never had… me." Guy said quietly.

_Before John can respond, the jeep skids on some unseen ice and slams into the guardrail.._

Guy rolls over in bed. He's dreaming. In his sleep, he raises both arms over his head as if protected himself, then drops them down on the bed.

"No," he whispers.


	7. Number Twenty Three

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 7: Number Twenty Three  
**

The day passed in a blur of color. Guy closed his eyes, holding on to specific images as they flashed through his mind.

Waking up covered in sweat… again.

The cold metal against his skin as he traced yet another bracelet of blood over his wrist.

Finding one of his duck jerseys crumpled into a ball on the floor next to his bed, torn in several places.

The eerie silence of the house that morning.

Finding a business card in his jeans pocket with the words, Junior Division Gold Medal League embossed on it.

The pain that made him cry out as he sunk the razor blade farther into his arm than he ever had before.

"Name?"

"Guy Germaine."

"School?"

"Eden Hall Academy."

"Coach Orion sent you?"

"Yes."

"And you're seventeen?"

"In April."

"Take this pass, kindly do not lose it, return it to me after your tryout. The locker room is down this hallway and to the left."

"Huh."_ What am I doing here? I'm not a hockey player anymore._

Guy was lacing up his skates when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up into the surprised face of his former coach. He found himself feeling just as shocked as Orion looked. "What are you doing here?"

"You've been out of it for too long, Germaine. As of last week, I no longer work for Eden Hall."

"You don't coach the ducks anymore?"

"The ducks moved up to Varsity this year, I wasn't coaching them anyway. I was still working with the new JV team, but I got offered a better position. I miss the team, but this is closer to home. I can be with my daughter more now."

"The ducks… moved up to Varsity?"

Guy stood in the middle of the ice, first line, right wing. His man, the person he was supposed to be blocking, stood less than three feet away from him. A time-out had been called; one of the younger guys trying out had smashed into the wall. His arm was now hanging at his side in a rather awkward position. But Guy barely registered that someone had been hurt. His attention had been fixated on one thing since the moment he stepped onto the ice: number twenty-three, of the opposing side.

Number twenty three had straight black hair, slightly mussed; grey-blue eyes, and was built just like Guy. Thin, not skinny. Toned, not muscular. An inch or two shorter than himself, and a couple of years younger. Guy wasn't sure why he was even at the rink to begin with, but muscle memory was at least taking over for his lack of true heart. Until he caught sight of the name on the back of this kid's jersey. Windsor.

_Windsor._


	8. I've Still Got It

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter Eight: I've Still Got It**

It was snowing. The world seemed at peace. Today had, in actuality, not been so bad. He had skated for the fun of it on the pond earlier in the day and he had enjoyed it. Later that afternoon he had received a phone call from the Junior Division Gold Medal League. He had made it past the first set of tryouts. The next round would be held the following weekend.

_I've still got it, _he thought to himself.

Guy stood in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. Skating had left him hungry for food for the first time in months. As he sat down, his stepfather walked into the kitchen. He pulled the chair opposite Guy's away from the table and sat down.

He sat quietly, finishing his sandwich, then picked up his plate and rinsed it in the sink. As he walked into the hallway a hand gripped his arm.

"Wait."

Guy turned slowly, unfamiliar with the tone of his stepfather's voice.

"What?"

"I want to talk to you." It was a question, rather than a statement.

Guy looked into John's face, searching for traces of anger. He found none. But he did find emotion; it reflected the same expressions in his own eyes.

"Ok."

xxx

The two men sat together on the dock, their breath rising in plumes around their mouths. Neither had said anything for several minutes. Guy reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He didn't often smoke, and usually kept his habit hidden, but didn't care at the moment. This was one of the times specially reserved for nicotine.

John stared at his stepson while he lit a cigarette, but didn't say anything. He hadn't known that Guy was a smoker, but kept his surprise to himself. He didn't want to rock the boat any more than he had to.

"How did your tryouts go?," he asked gently.

Guy looked up in surprise, not knowing that John knew he was playing again. Possibly playing again.

"How did you know about that?"

John smiled shyly, "Coach Orion told me."

Guy looked out over the water, taking the new information in.

"When did you talk to Orion?"

"We've always talked on and off. He called when you quit the ducks. Actually, I received several phone calls about that one. From Orion, Dean Buckley, Coach Bombay, your grandparents." He paused. "Charlie."

Guy was silent for a moment.

"Why do they all care so much?," he asked himself quietly.

"Why wouldn't they?"

Guy looked up quickly, not realizing he said anything out loud.

_He looks so sad, _John thought. _He didn't do anything to deserve this kind of pain._

"More people than you realize care about you, Guy."

Guy stood up, taking one last draw of his smoke and threw the butt into the water. Turning, he faced John and looked into his eyes.

"What do you want from me," he sighed.

"I want to re-get to know you; we haven't talked in so long."

"You stopped talking to me."

John stood there in disbelief. All he had wanted to do for months is have a conversation with his stepson, but Guy had been so cold. _How did this get so confused?_

"Guy," said John, "I didn't stop talking to you. I wanted to give you some space. What I said.. I, you must have been so angry."

"I was… now I just don't know what to think."


	9. Alan

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter Nine: Alan**

_Two weeks later._

**North London, England**

Alan Windsor stepped into his office and immediately paged his secretary telling her to hold all his calls for the rest of the afternoon. He had just been informed that a second round of tryouts for the Junior Gold Division Medal League had been held that afternoon, and his son, Daniel, had made it through. He would be playing hockey in the United States, in a state called Minnesota. He felt flush at the thought. _Minnesota. _There were so many memories there.

_His first time in another country; alone._

_His first time experiencing another culture._

_His first big break-working for the Germaine Group, a prestigious law firm._

_His first love._

_His first born._

He was undeniably stuck on the last two. Samantha Germaine had been beautiful. She was also his partners' only daughter. His teenage daughter. That wasn't a good mix. He had been immediately drawn to her; her long blonde hair almost an aphrodisiac in itself. He had loved her tenderly, if not illicitly, but loved her nonetheless. He still missed her, after all these years.

His thoughts drifted to the aftermath of his rash actions, and their repercussions. Samantha had bore him a son; a little boy that had her golden hair, but his greenish gold eyes. It couldn't be denied that the boy was his son, the paternity test had yielded the truth. The result was Alan returning to England in shame, hoping to keep the boy a secret.

_What am I going to do? _He thought.

He knew all about Guy; knew because Samantha's mother never let a year go by without shipping a box full of pictures and letters explaining all about the boy. _Spiteful woman, _he often thought.

Alan's mind often wandered to the deepest part of his brain, where he kept the secret of his son tucked away. _He looks like me. He has my smile. He plays hockey._

_Hockey. _That was going to be a problem one day, Alan was sure of it. He knew his son had talent, he watched from afar as Guy went through the motions of peewee games, the Junior Olympic Games, and playing for Eden Hall. Grandmother Germaine had sent him his yearly box a few months in advance this year; he'd received just yesterday and it contained documentation that Guy had indeed been placed on the Junior Division Gold Medal League team.

_With Daniel._

This was going to be interesting.


	10. Breaking Down the Barrier

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter Ten: Breaking Down the Barrier**

Guy pulled his jersey over his head and hung it up in his locker. Young men were all around, being loud in the way teenage boys are. Laughter echoed off the walls, yet he remained silent. Guy was never one to willingly make conversation with anyone, and he wasn't about to start now. These were his teammates, and nothing else.

Farther down the row of lockers was number twenty three, Guy realized. He hadn't forgotten that Dan made it through; he just hadn't resigned himself to the fact yet. He had seen his brother two other times, and both had been on the ice. He played well, Guy had to admit that, but he still wished he wasn't there. It was going to take a lot of effort to accept his position on the team.

"Want a ride?"

Guy looked up from the book he was looking at, finding himself face to face with the jeep he almost walked into. His stepdad's face peered from the drivers' side window. "I'm on my way home from work; I thought we'd ride together."

Guy sighed, and gripped the door handle. He sat down, and pulled the seat belt tightly around him. He wore it religiously ever since the accident.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

John looked at the boy, now a young man, and then turned to face the front window. He pulled cautiously into traffic.

xxx

"Why did you come for me?"

John looked up, surprised; he hadn't heard anyone come down the stone steps.

"What?"

"After practice, why did you come for me?"

"Why do you ask?"

Guy shrugged.

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I was curious. I wanted to know how it went. I didn't think you had an interest in hockey anymore."

Guy continued to look at him in silence.

"When Orion called asking for permission, and later telling me that you were actually playing, I almost fell out of my chair. I wasn't expecting you to play again."

"Did you not think I'd be any good?"

"You know that's not what I thought."

"Then why else would you be surprised."

"You stopped playing. I really didn't think you'd play again after…"

Guy waited a couple of beats. He'd known this was coming. They'd avoided it for too long.

"You didn't think I'd play again after my surgery. You thought my leg would be too messed up for that."

"I did."

Guy sighed, and sat down next to John. "I didn't think I would, either."

"Guy, I never really apologized for that night- "

"Don't. I don't want to get into it."

"We should, though. A lot happened that night that I'm not proud of; a lot has happened since then that I'm not proud of. Everything's changed. I want to make things better."

Guy thought about that. "Why did Stanley move in with us? And his kids?"

"He's my brother. He was having trouble, and I wanted to help him out. I didn't think they would be here this long."

"He doesn't like me much."

John chose not to answer, continuing to stare out at the frozen water.

"It went well."

John looked up, then. "What?"

"Practice. It went well."

He smiled. "Tell me more."


	11. My, My Baby Blue

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 11: My, My Baby Blue**

It was cold outside. Strong winds blew through St. Paul. It was January now. The crisp, clean air held the tang of a freshly lit cigarette, and he was enjoying it. His left knee ached a bit, but he knew it was just sore from the weather. The cold air made the muscles tighten; more so now since the accident. Once again sitting in his beloved spot on the dock, Guy took a moment to reflect. His life had been turned inside out and upside down in recent months, and he still was not sure how to take it in. He leaned back, out of the wind, and remembered.

Waking up in St. Mary's Hospital had been scary. What was more terrifying was the fact that he had woken up alone. His parents were not there. They weren't there, _technically._ Samantha was with her husband, down the hall in his room, gathered with the children they had produced together. John had a concussion; his skull bruised from making contact with the windshield. Guy had been knocked unconscious and was thought to be asleep. All he could think about was that his mother was not there.

He barely remembered being thrown from the car. He didn't remember the cracking of his left leg, just below his knee, at all. He didn't remember the cold; how very cold it had been. Or the unseen ice. The only memory from that night that he held in his heart was the conversation that had proceeded the crash.

"_I thought you loved my mother."_

"_I do, but I wish she hadn't been put into the situation she was in."_

"_Meaning?"_

"_I wish she hadn't gotten pregnant by that jackass. He screwed her, then screwed her over. And she got landed with a baby and no one to help care for it._

"_You wish she'd never had me." Guy said quietly._

It had been uncomfortable using crutches. It was, however, easier, and much more freeing, than the wheelchair. The weeks of physical rehab were paying off; his leg becoming stronger with each session. Samantha had come to pick him up, and she was obviously in a hurry. Tapping her foot, and shooting him furtive glances, he made his way over to her, as quickly as his crutches would allow. _Figures, _he thought, _she wants to get home to _him _and the rugrats._

"Mom?," he asked.

"Just let's go."

The wailing of the wind brought Guy back to the present. Glancing at his watch, he wondered how long he had been sitting there, lost in thought. He shook his head, and flicked the burned down stub of his cigarette onto the ice. Shivering slightly, he made his way up the stairs and into the house, heading towards the bathroom. He hadn't brought anything sharp to his skin intentionally for two weeks, but that was washed away as he turned the overhead light on the bathroom on.


	12. Gulty Until Proven Innocent

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 12: Guilty Until Proven Innocent**

Guy woke up to someone pouncing on top of his sleeping form. He rolled over, and pulled his legs up to his chest. He heard someone jump again, and opened one eye in time to see his little brother come down on his left side.

"Stop it."

David jumped again, landing on his bad leg.

"You little- !"

The sounds of running feet echoed the scream, and the seven year old tore down the stairs, screeching to a halt in front of his mother.

"What's the matter, baby?"

"I didn't do nothing, he just yelled, and.."

"I did not!" Came Guy's cry from upstairs. "Tell the truth, you little brat."

He slammed his bedroom door shut, and limped over to his bed. Wincing, he reached down, and pulled up a box that was hidden beneath the box spring. His nimble fingers worked quickly, untying the string that held the lid to the base.

"Guy!"

His head jerked up quickly at the sound of his name being called, and he moved swiftly towards the door. Reaching out, he twisted the lock until it caught, ensuring him privacy until he was ready to face his mother.

Sitting down again, the pain in his leg pulsating even more from his sudden movement, he picked the box up again. Lifting its lid off, he shuffled through the randomness that had accumulated inside until he found what he was looking for.

His fingertips grazed something smooth, hard, and plastic. He picked up the bottle, and stared at it. He unscrewed the cap, and shook two tablets into the palm of his hand. He hadn't taken these pills in a long time.

Absentmindedly rubbing his knee, he brought his hand to his mouth and swallowed. Ignoring the pounding on his door, he lay down, allowing himself to fall asleep again.

xxx

"Germaine!"

"I'm talking to you!"

Guy continued walking, banging his way out of the locker room. He made a beeline for the parking lot, and almost made it to the other side of the street when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm talking to you. Where the hell do you get off walking away from me like that? I'm your coach, damn it."

"Leave me alone!"

"You show at practice completely out of it, how else am I supposed to talk to you?"

Guy turned to face Orion, his eyes flashing.

"I'm not high."

"You're certainly were acting like it."

"I don't care if don't you believe me."

"You haven't given me a reason to believe otherwise."

Guy shook his head, turned to face the street, and continued his way home.


	13. You Found Me

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter Thirteen: You Found Me**

The loud screech of the telephone rang throughout the house. As usual, it was set to HIGH. With so many people living under one roof, it needed to be. Screams and shouts came from children and adults alike as they all scrambled for the phone at once.

_Like fucking animals, _Guy thought to himself, as he slipped quietly out the door.

Pulling his coat tightly around him, he ducked into the darkness and followed a path up the street. He did not need the light of the moon to know where he was going; his feet took him there automatically. Shivering slightly, he quickened his pace.

All of the beaches that surrounded the pond were public. This one was no exception; all of Minneapolis had access to it. But it was only visited sporadically. Some people did not like to venture through the thick brush that hid its' entrance, some didn't know that it existed at all.

The Mighty Ducks knew of its' existence. They were, in fact, Crystal Beach's only visitors for as long as they could remember. Coach Bombay had brought them there as children, when they were still learning the basics of hockey, to practice. It was quiet, secluded, and the water frozen enough to support their weight as they flew across the ice. After their win against the Hawks, they moved on to real skating rinks, and California, to play in the Junior Goodwill Games. After that, it was Eden Halls' stadium rink. Gone were the days where Crystal Beach was a playing ground, a teaching ground. Guy missed those days.

Sitting on one of the rusted swings that scattered the beach, Guy took in his surroundings. The beach hadn't changed much since his last visit. The water was frozen, the sand was white, and the abandoned swing set that he had played on with the Ducks was still rusty. The garbage cans they used as goal posts were still standing underneath the willow tree-exactly where they were left after their final practice.

Scattered trash had blown from the outside street. He got up from the swing, the chains complaining loudly as he removed his weight from the pad. Reaching down to pick up the litter, Guy could almost hear the ghostly whispers from his past.

"_Come on, Goldberg, at least try to stop it. I'm tired of chasin' the puck."_

"_Be careful, man. It almost hit me that time"_

"_Goldberg, you're the goalie. It's supposed to hit you."_

"_Does that sound stupid to anyone else?"_

Guy chuckled to himself, recalling how ridiculous he and his friends used to be.

"It's amazing how time had changed us all." He said quietly, still hunched over the debris.

"It's amazing how time has changed you."

Guy jerked his head up, surprised at the intrusion. He looked up to see Charlie Conway staring down at him.


	14. When No One Else Was Looking

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 14: When No One Else Was Looking**

Guy continued to look up at his old friend, a sad smile on his face.

"You found me." He whispered.

"I'll always find you."

The two men sat in the sand, the wind ruffling their hair.

"Put it out." Charlie said, gesturing towards Guy's cigarette. "My mom'll throw a fit if I come home smelling like that."

Guy took another quick pull and then obliged, putting his cigarette out in the sand.

"How did you know I'd be here?"

"You always come here when you're upset."

"How'd you know I was upset?"

Charlie bit his lip, hesitant about his answer. "Orion told me."

Guy breathed deeply, but didn't say anything.

"He's worried about you. We all are."

"There's nothing to worry about."

"Really?" Charlie asked in surprise. "Last time I checked there was plenty to worry about."

"Charlie.."

"No, please, listen to me." He stopped, checking to see if his friend would interrupt. When he didn't, Charlie continued.

"I've known you since the sandbox, Guy; you can't hide from me the way you do others."

He paused again, waiting, but Guy continued to stare straight ahead.

"What happened that night? With Connie? What was so bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I bet you haven't talked about it with anyone. Please, help me understand."

Guy leaned all the way back so that he was lying on his back in the sand. He stared straight up, his eyes reflecting the stars in the night sky.

"We had sex."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Well, yeah. We kind of all do. The whole parents yelling thing tipped us off."

"She told me she needed a break right after."

Charlie lay down next to him, not saying a word. He didn't want to interrupt now that his friend was finally talking.

"She called me a few weeks later. She was four weeks late."

Charlie sucked in his breath, and held it. Questions exploded inside his head, but he stayed quiet. He hadn't known this.

"She was pregnant. John was right. I would- I did get her pregnant. He was right."

"Connie.. she doesn't look pregnant. She.. would have had the baby by now though. Right?" Charlie questioned softly.

"She isn't anymore." Guy rolled onto his side, facing the swing set he had played on as a child. He could almost hear the spirit of his unborn child laughing on it.

"I told my mom about it. She cried a lot, and told my stepdad. They weren't happy."

"I wouldn't think so." Charlie whispered.

"You know, that night John told me that I'd wind up like my mom; too young, uneducated, and alone. He was right, wasn't he? I am alone. The only difference between me and her is that Connie killed our baby."

"Don't say that, Guy."

"She did, Charlie. She didn't want a child. She wanted a career in hockey, and she's going to get one. She's damn good."

"So are you."

Guy smirked, but didn't answer; his thoughts still lingering on the baby.

"Were you really high at practice, Guy?" Charlie asked tentatively.

"No."

"But Orion said-

"I wasn't."

"You trusted me up until this point, Guy, why are you lying to me now?"

Guy was on his feet, feeling his temper rise.

Charlie was on his heals. "Talk to me."

He turned around, eyes flashing. "Listen to me. I wasn't on anything. I took some painkillers earlier in the day because I couldn't walk. Dave was jumping on my bed while I was in it and landed on my knee. I wouldn't have been able to practice if I didn't take anything. But I wasn't high." He turned back around, and made his way home.

Charlie looked rattled. He hadn't been expecting that.

"I'm going to have a lot of apologizing to do." He said to no one in particular.


	15. A Little Bit of Trust

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 15: A Little Bit of Trust**

Guy sat in the overstuffed armchair in the living room, absentmindedly picking the stuffing out of one of the holes. Coach Orion sat on the couch across from him, staring him right in the face. It was Orion who had called last night, informing his parents that he had walked out of practice. Guy was still fuming from the confusion he had caused.

"_In the kitchen, now."_

Guy cringed at the tone his step father used, knowing he was in deep. He didn't have to question what was wrong, he already knew.

He slipped quietly into a chair, his eyes never looking up from the floor. Trying to keep his temper in check, he squeeze his eyes shut, and took a deep breath.

"_I want to know what's going on. Why did Coach Orion call this house tonight?"_

"_If he called, then I bet you already know why."_

John stepped around the table, and sat down next to the boy.

"_I want to hear it from you."_

"_I don't know what you want me to say that will be any different than what Orion said. I left practice before it was over. That's it."_

"_Orion said you weren't focused. You were spastic. He said you seemed like you were on something."_

"_I wasn't."_

"_Then why would he think that?"_

"_I don't know."_

John knew in his heart that Guy hadn't been on anything, but curiosity was getting the better of him.

"_There had to be a reason for Orion to think that. 'I don't know' doesn't answer my question."_

Guy felt defeated. He didn't know what else to say.

"_I was on some pain pills. For my leg; it was bothering me. But I wasn't high."_

John remained silent.

"_You know, if nobody's going to believe me then I'm not going to waste my time trying to change their minds."_

He got up, and walked up the stairs to his room, intent on sleeping away this mess he was in.

xxx

"Charlie called me last night."

Guy looked up, looking directly into Orion's eyes.

"So?"

"He told me about the conversation the two of you had last night."

"And?"

"Come on, Guy. I'm trying to apologize here."

"Why should I not be difficult? You certainly had no problem being so at practice yesterday." Guy shot back.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. I want to make this work. We need you on the team, but things can't keep on the way they are. We need to work through this. Please."

"I need you to trust me. I wouldn't mess with my body that way. You know that."

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"I guess." Guy responded quietly.

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

He looked up, wondering what Orion wanted now. He nodded, indicating his response.

Orion reached over, gripped Guy's arm in his hand, and pushed the sleeve up.

"How long have you been cutting?"

Guy stared down at the scars, some of them newer than he'd like them to be.


	16. Just Here to the Left of You

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 17: Just Here to the Left of You**

When Guy woke up, he was cold, hungry, and alone. He felt the unseen walls surrounding him, and heard the beeping of the heart monitor in the corner of the room. What he didn't know was how he got to the hospital.

Pressing the call button above his left shoulder, he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position, but found movement to be difficult. His arms felt numb, but his lower half was sore. He winced as the nurse bustled in, turning the overhead light on and blinding him temporarily. She checked his vitals as he tried to blink away the tiny circles that blocked correct vision.

"Glad to see you're up. How're you feeling?" she asked.

Guy paused a moment, debating whether to bombard the poor woman with questions, or just answer her question. "Tired."

"That'd be the medications you're on. They'll make you feel sluggish for awhile."

"But why am I on anything? How did I get here?"

"Your doctor will be in later to discuss your situation. Right now, I suggest resting until he gets here."

"But-"

"Just rest." she said quietly, smoothing down his blanket.

"He needs to know. He wants to know."

"And I will tell him when it's time. Until then, you will not say anything to him. Do you understand?"

"I'm his father."

"It only says that on paper."

Guy woke later in the night to the sound of voices talking outside his room. He recognized the woman's voice, it was his mother's, but the man's voice was alien to him.

Groggily, he raised his head off the pillow, trying to catch more of their conversation, but they seemed to be moving away from the door. All he was able to hear was the padding of footsteps as they echoed away from his room.

_What was that about?_ he thought to himself. He was positive they were talking about him, but he didn't know why. Nothing made sense. Where was he, again? He just couldn't remember.

Guy turned his face towards the window; a sliver of light shining in. It shown and reflected off something white on his arm. Bandages. White in color, wrapped around his arm tightly, causing the feeling in it to fade to pins and needles. Underneath, the skin was itchy. _Why?_

Feeling another wave of tiredness fall over him, Guy rested his head back on his pillows and closed his eyes. He was asleep within minutes, and never noticed the man with the green eyes that slipped into the room. He didn't stir either, when he pulled a chair close to the bed, and took his hand.


	17. Hiding in Plain Sight

**The Lost Boy**

**Chapter 17: Hiding in Plain Sight**

The quarantine was over, but they still wouldn't let him leave the hospital. They told him he fell through the ice but he didn't remember. The last memory he had was of his confrontation with Orion in his living room. Doctors were sent to talk to him about the cutting but they found him unresponsive. The loss of his freedom didn't move Guy to speech. His removal from the team didn't faze him either. His mother worried ridiculously about catatonia despite assurance from from the medical team treating her son. He had retreated into himself, but he was aware. He needed this time. To process, to begin healing. He knew he couldn't keep on this way. There were people wanting to help bring him back and he wanted to let them. To be in control, to be Guy Germaine again.

His father kept coming to see him. Guy hadn't acknowledged him, staring at the ceiling or sometimes out the window. Alan talked to him anyway. About his life in England and his years playing hockey, his son. _My brother, _thought Guy_._ His yearly box of pictures and news clippings his grandmother sent. All intriguing pieces of information that Guy filed away to ponder when he was alone.

Samantha and John came, bringing the kidlets once or twice, but usually they were alone. His mother fussed over sheet threadcounts and whether his pillows had feathers or were foam. His stepdad looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "I have to do something," she explained. She filled the room with flowers and then it was Guy's turn to look at her like she'd lost her mind.

Goldberg came, bringing with him a meatball hero from his parent's deli. "Ya gotta eat something other than jello."

Dwayne spent an afternoon with him, telling him ranching stories, all the while trying not to sneeze at the flowers.

Coach Bombay came while Guy was asleep. He stared at the boy from the doorway for a long time, trying to figure out how things had gone so wrong. His number two for years had bloody limbs from his fall. Charlie, of course, had filled him in on his other dramas and Bombay shook his head. "You're gonna be ok, Guy. You'll make it."

The days continued to pass in a blur of rotating nurses and friends and family visitations. He was still silent, but began letting on that he was paying attention. His nurses felt his gaze as they changed his dressings and smiled encouragingly. The doctors grew hopeful.

His cuts healed leaving angry scars in their wake. Guy stared at them, remembering each slice. He wanted to cut. Needed to. Even though his head said no. He touched them gingerly, feeling his body practically scream for the blade, anything to feel the cold metal against his skin instead of dealing with his father's sudden interest in his life, his mother's sad eyes, Coach Orion, CharlieJesseAvermanConnie.

_Connie._

Connie had come to see him.

"What are you doing to yourself?" she whispered. She didn't look sad, just disappointed. Which was worse, in Guy's opinion. He spent so many years trying to be perfect, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect son, the perfect teammate. Maybe not the most perfect student but he tried. "Don't you know how worried I've been? Charlie said they almost didn't pull you out in time. Do you remember? The ice was thin. You weren't breathing." Connie's eyes strayed from his and looked down his body, stopping at his left arm, above the wrist. There was now bruising mixed with the scars. "Why?" She moved closer, tears beginning to sting her eyes. Burying her face in his chest, she started to cry.

Guy shifted and breathed deeply. "I'm gonna be alright, Cons."


End file.
